Not Quite Puppy Love
by icarusforgotten
Summary: "What the hell is /that/?" [for Hibo]


"What the hell is _that_?"

"What?" asked Peter.

Wade was quivering with what could only be determined as rage, his fist contracting fiercely around his taco, spilling the ingredients out onto the couch.

"That _thing_!" Wade jumped from his seat, tv remote falling from his lap and clattering to the hardwood floor. He stalked up to Peter, who still had no idea what had gotten Wade into such a fit.

A loud mewling sound caught his attention, and Peter turned to look down at the wet kitten snuggling in his arms. Poor thing must still be cold. Peter closed the door with his heel and proceeded to walk into the kitchen, ignoring that he was being closely followed and observed by a blabbering Wade Wilson. This type of behaviour wasn't really that strange, all things considered Deadpool, but there was still something off about the way Wade was scrutinizing him, like he'd grown a goat from the side of his leg, or had just claimed to have witnessed the great Nick Fury performing his very improvised and very private rendition of Swan Lake (yeah, Wade's expression was more akin to this reaction when Peter had told him this story a few weeks ago. In his defence, he had simply been searching for some new tech to inspire him to make adjustments and advancements on his webshooters; he did _not_ need the image of one frolicking Nick Fury, all clad in frilly pink tutu too tight for mortal – and perhaps even _immortal _ – eyes, prancing around in what Peter assumed he'd thought to be an empty tech lab on a Saturday night – because really, who the hell walked in on tech on a Saturday night? Oh right, nerds like him – etched into his brain. His very, very, vividly-recalling brain).

Shaking the mental images away, Peter set the soaked kitten down onto the table. The little guy was shivering violently, clawing his paws at Peter to return to some of his body heat. Peter feared that the kitten may succumb to hypothermia, so he turned to search for a heated blanket – and collided with a very broad, and heaving chest.

"Wh – Wade?!"

"Have you not listened to a _single_ thing I've been saying, Spidey? Are you seriously going to replace me with that cat? I know, I can't believe it myself! No, I am _not_ over reacting. And how the hell should _I_ have known that he had this kink hiding up his ass?" Wade was _fuming_.

Peter placed his hands on Wade's chest, and his biceps were suddenly grasped in a too-tight-to-be-friendly-foreplay sort of way. He had no idea what had happened prior to his arrival, but something must have triggered Deadpool – and violently at that – for him to become this seriously aggressive towards Peter. And Peter couldn't really read his expression, since Wade was wearing his mask, though he could make out the feint outlines of a snarling grimace the way the corners of Wade's mouth were pulling the fabric of his mask.

"Wade, what happened?" Peter tried to loosen out of his grip, but the hold on his arms only tightened – he could feel his bones close to snapping, the pressure was so intense. "Wade, you're starting to hurt me. Let go, and let's talk about this." Peter put on the serious face that he reserved for criminals and villains (not that they could see it – he just needed to be in a certain frame of mind to deal with all those baddies), and for lecturing and calming down an unpredictable and callous Deadpool. He did _not_ like to think of him as _Wade_ when he was acting this way. Seriously, not good for the bedroom – or the battlefield.

Peter could see Wade relax a little, though the grip on his arms didn't seem to loosen. It didn't tighten either, which at least was a sign of progress. Peter leaned his head as close as he could to Wade's chest, all the while hearing the soft mewling of the kitten behind him. He felt Wade's heartbeat speed up and his fingers tense at the sound of the feline. Peter quickly lifted his head and looked into the eyes of Wade's mask.

"Do you not like cats or something?"

Wade made a sound of mock pain. He then quickly let go of Peter and turned away, crossing his arms and sulking like a child. _Well_, thought Peter, _at least he was back to acting like Wade again_. Ironically, he knew, he had never stopped.

Wade was grumbling something under his breath. Peter placed a hand on his shoulder and Wade flinched, turning even further away. Peter sighed. "Alright. You need to talk to me. I'm going to get a blanket for the little guy", he pointed in the direction of the kitten, "and you take some time to cool down so we can talk about it. I don't want to have a fight tonight, Wade. I'm tired enough as it is, and this weather is _really_ acting up on my migraine."

As Peter started to turn towards the bathroom, he was suddenly body checked into the nearest wall, pinned by a blubbering Wade, as his arms began to shakily cling to Peter for dear life. He pressed himself harder against Peter, mumbling little "no"s every once in a while in a self-assuring manner. It was really starting to become worrisome. He'd seen Wade clingy and desperate before, but this was something else.

He wrapped his arms around Wade's shoulders, rubbing slow, soothing circles over his back and his arms until Wade seemed to calm a little. He then heard Wade mumbling something again.

Peter lifted Wade's chin and asked him to repeat what he'd said.

"I don't want you to leave me for a stinking cat, okay!"

Peter was dumbfounded. He started to laugh, holding Wade closer, who started to struggle against Peter's grip and accuse him of adding insult to injury by mocking Wade right in the middle of breaking up with him. Peter just laughed harder, and he realized too late that this was a mistake, as right away, Wade's fist came crashing into his jaw, and Peter was slumped against the floor, trapped between the wall and a looming, angry Wade.

"Wait, come on, Wade! Why the hell would you ever think I'd leave you for a _cat_?"

Wade aimed another punch, which embarrassingly (for him) connected with the wall, as Peter ducked out of the way and slid right under Wade's legs, tripping him down to the floor, and quickly scampering overtop Wade to pin his hands above his head. Peter smiled wickedly, and he could see the confusion on Wade's face through his mask. With caution, he maneuvered both of Wade's hands into one of his own, and brought his now-free hand down to gently lift the base of Wade's mask down to lean forward and press a gentle kiss onto Wade's cheek, then his lips. He felt Wade slump into relaxation beneath him, so giving him the benefit of the doubt, he let go of Wade's hands and buried his face in the crook of his neck.

Big mistake.

Wade shoved him off and flipped him over, bending Peter's arm around his back and tugging until he felt his joint close to dislocation. He kept still and silent, knowing that a reaction would just spur him on. Eventually, Wade let go and punched Peter in the shoulder, _hard_, feeling a sharp current of pain traveling through his arm and don his spine; and Peter knew that he'd have limited use of his arm the next day – judging by the feel of it, it was most likely to turn into an ugly and painful bruise.

"That's for making me worry," Wade muttered under his breath before helping Peter up off the ground. He dusted Peter off, and offered a quick, muffled apology, followed by a quick brush of the lips against Peter's hair. He could tell that Wade was more embarrassed about his lack of control than anything else. Especially since he'd been doing so well over the past couple months to keep it under check.

Peter took Wade's hand and led him to the kitchen. He picked up the kitten and placed it in Wade's arms.

"I found him in the streets, soaked and nearly drowning in the thunder storm. He doesn't look old enough to be without his mother, so I thought I'd take him in. I also thought you'd like to have someone around to take care of." Peter added that last bit hesitantly. He wasn't sure how Wade felt about the idea of having a pet. Wade barely took care of himself, after all, and to assume that he would be willing to devote the responsibility required to care for another completely dependent being? Peter had mulled over the idea that it would start to bring out different sides in Wade, that it would help him achieve his goal in becoming a better person. He closed his eyes and prayed that Wade wouldn't just smash the cat against the wall, or rip his head off and try to fasten it on backwards, like he did with several of the plushies he'd asked Peter to buy for him.

When the silence lasted for longer than Peter could bear, he opened his eyes. And he could not believe what he was seeing.

There was Deadpool, one of the deadliest killers on the planet, cuddling with a vulnerable kitten. Of course, it shouldn't have come as _too_ much of a surprise for Peter – after all, Wade _did_ like to cuddle Peter almost every night, sans sex or not.

"He's … too _cute_! Now that I know he's not going to take you away from me –" Wade narrowed his eyes and glared at Peter " – he's not going to take you away from me, right? Because if he is, I swear that I'll –"

Peter cut Wade off with a kiss, short but powerful. "No, Wade. I promise you, he won't take me away."

Wade beamed. "Good! In that case, can we keep him? What do we name him? How about Bea Arthur Jr.? Yeah, that's a good name. We can pretend that he got a sex change because he was in the presence of two manly men, but still needed to keep his femininity as Bea Arthur."

Peter stared right at Wade, trying hard to dismiss the urge to smack him upside the head.

" … Or we could name him Little Taco?"

Peter left the room, feeling the migraine coming back to him in strong waves. "No Bea Arthur, and no tacos, Wade. I don't need you trying to molest or eat our cat!"

"I'm hurt Petey." Wade was thoughtful for a moment. "Petey."

Peter turned around. "Yes?"

"That's his name. Petey. Number two."

Peter felt mortified.

"So that whenever you're not around me, I can still have you kind of around me," Wade finished, smiling so brilliantly that Peter forgot whatever lecture he had for Wade running through his head.

"Wade," he sighed, "I'll always be around you." He placed his hand over Wade's heart, just under the kitten's sleepy head. "Right here. I'm always with you."

"Thanks Pete." Wade smiled sheepishly. He leaned forward and gave Peter a teasing kiss.

"Petey and I are going to play now. We wish not be disturbed. See ya Pete!" He ran into their bedroom, shutting the door behind him.

What in the holy hell has just happened. Peter did not even want to know. He went back to the kitchen and pulled out a beer. Some things, particularly involving Wade Wilson, were just better left ignored. There was no amount of science that could figure that guy out.


End file.
